The Color Lilac
by FancyFreeThinker101
Summary: Gilderoy Lockhart is convinced Severus Snape is in denial, and does his utomost to lend a hand. Brief one-shot about what transpires. Please be gentle-it's my first fanfic! Thanks!


Gilderoy Lockhart ran his fingers almost arrogantly through his hair.

"Now, _really_, Severus, no need to get in a huff, I was simply—"

Severus Snape sucked a slow, measured, dangerous breath in through his teeth and spoke very quietly.

"While your…_consideration_ is vastly appreciated, Gilderoy, I must insist that is _most_ unnecessary."

And, with these words, he picked up the latest, hard-bound edition of Lockhart's newest literary endeavor (_Finagling with Feelings_) and, casting it a look of blackest loathing, returned it to its proud, bemused author. Gilderoy, dashingly arrayed in a lilac-hued set of robes which were nearly as absurd as his blinding, cartoonish white teeth, blinked in utter confusion for several moments before saying, with renewed confidence:

"Now, Severus, let's not play games with ourselves. We both know, surely, how difficult these things can be…"

"_You _may know, Gilderoy, but I must beg you not speak for me," murmured Snape, his voice venomous beneath the thin, silky layer of reptilian cordiality. What an utter ass the man was. And how ridiculous he looked in that hideous color!

Lockhart wagged a roguish finger at his colleague (how it pained Snape to think of them in such terms!) and, with a boyish, overdone wink, remonstrated:

"Come, come, Severus, you're a clever man, but even clever men have their little hidden desires! It's no secret, really; I knew the moment I saw you that you were like that!"

Gritting his teeth, Snape asked the painful question.

"Like _what_, may I ask? Do clarify matters, Gilderoy."

"Well—" For once, Lockhart seemed momentarily beyond words; swallowing, he smiled more gallantly than ever and waved his well-kept hands about rather weakly. "You know—a errr—a—well, we both know what I mean, there's no need to er—no need to say it, really…you seem a bit…touchy on the matter…"

But the Potions master was enjoying the other's discomfort far too much to allow him to slide so easily.

"Oh, no, no, Gilderoy, let us be frank. As you said: it's no secret _really_."

At this use of his own words against him Lockhart laughed uneasily and, in a tone of forced cheeriness, said:

"As you wish, Severus…well…I knew as soon as I saw you that you were a umm—a errrr—a homosexual."

Snape's mouth compressed into a very thin, very hard, very white line; a cleverer man would have seized his chance and run as far as he possibly could. Being who he was, however, Gilderoy Lockhart stayed seated, perched grandly on one of the hard black armchairs in Snape's room.

"Really? And what, pray, alerted you of this…state?"

Regaining some of his devil-may-care knavishness, Lockhart laughed airily and replied, with another insufferable wink:

"Well, I knew a chap like you couldn't be so long without a woman for nothing."

The line that was at the moment functioning as Snape's mouth twitched for a moment in sheer rage; however, in a voice of coolest self-possession, he said softly:

"It is my _sincerest _regret to inform you, Gilderoy, that you are mistaken. Now, if you will—I have essays which are lonely without their usual "D" for company."

Unfortunately, the aggravating, indefatigable Lockhart didn't move; he only laughed again and, clapping the rigid, seething Snape on the back, insisted:

"Come now, Sev, let's not go _too_ deep into denial, eh? It's alright: I know. You don't have to pretend to dislike me, Severus; I'm all too aware of your little ruse, you scamp, you!" as he tipped "Sev" a conspirator's wink. As the other was too much in shock to formulate a reply, he went on, eagerly:

"And I flatter myself that this book is _most_ helpful in sorting out these little…urges, and what not, and accepting yourself and all that, it's really a thumping good read, you know, and you'll find, in Chapter Thirty-Eight—"

But what Snape would find in Chapter Thirty-Eight of _Finagling with Feelings_ was never to be discovered, for Severus Snape had at last gathered his rage-scattered wits, and was now forcibly pushing a still-chatting Gilderoy Lockhart out of the door. Talking rather quickly now, the latter protested desperately:

"But Severus! There's a club I meant to tell you of, specifically designed for drawing you and others like you out of your shell! We meet every Tuesday, and look, now, don't shove; I'm wearing the club robes at this moment! See here, you'd look smashing in lilac! And we could appoint you Secretary, no problem about it, and—and—"

Severus Snape slammed the door and slowly clenched and unclenched his paper-white fists. Odious man! And to suggest that _he,_ Severus Snape, the respected Hogwarts professor, actually deign to wear _lilac!_ Of all the visual monstrosities! Still fuming, he swept, like a displeased bat, up the stairs and into bed, resolving to put the whole hideous incident out of his mind.

And we shall never know what he thought the next morning as, stepping out of his room, he nearly tripped over a large, gilt-bound edition of _Finagling with Feelings_ left at his doorway, with the sprawling message "With love from Gilderoy Lockhart" right across the front.


End file.
